017. Memoria – Conspire


Title: Conspire
Genre: Undefined
Characters: Christian Koenig, Ussot
Story Origin: Vignettes prior to Angel of Lies
Prompt: 017. Conspire
Word Count: 1,605
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ussot makes her move.
Warnings: Sexual References, Violence

Christian sat undeterred by the rain.  His thoughts were numerous, all equally dark and foreboding.  The rain wouldn’t keep his mind from its consistent workings.  Too much had happened, too much was now at stake for him to fall victim to something so trivial as becoming drenched.  It was one of the few moments where he was allowed solitude, a moment of ‘peace’ from others… but there was never anywhere to hide from himself.

Even now he felt it, much like an oppressive shadow, it was always with him, always threatening to overtake him.  It hadn’t gotten any better over the years… in fact, it had gotten much worse.

He felt her before he acknowledged her.  Her energy was like a warm fire, though its scalding touch was not one Christian welcomed on his own psyche.  She stood waiting for him to look at her, to regard her, or even perhaps to speak.  He did nothing, ignoring her, wondering how long she’d stand there in the rain before becoming frustrated with his disinterest.  He remembered her.  Ussot was never very patient.  Finally, she spoke.

“It seems foolish to sit in the rain,” her voice was like the melodic chords of a harp, but too perfect, too correctly pitched to be beautiful.  He ignored the influence in those words, the warmth that spread around his walls, trying to force them down.

‘What do you want?’ It was a subtle notion, a light brush of his mind against hers.  It startled her, but she recovered quickly.

Her eyes were like liquid fire, her hair becoming wet and tangled against her shoulders.  Her gaze pinned him down effortlessly and he felt the relentless battering of her influence against his own.  It was hot and scalding, a hiss of reaction sounding with every slight meeting of their energies.

She smiled prettily, her petite face the very vision of an angel’s, “the better question is what is it that you desire, Christian?”

‘A loaded question if there ever was one,’ he remarked, moving to his feet, ignoring the protests of his tired limbs, his soaked through clothing.  ‘You should be afraid.’

“Afraid?” She paused, considering it a moment.  “I think not.  I have nothing to fear from you, Christian.  In fact, I think I have much to offer.  You know why I’ve come.”

‘Do I?  You assume a lot,’ Christian’s thoughts were a powerful vibration against her mind.  He’d grown stronger.  It was all she could do to keep herself steady and he knew it.  ‘You are stupid if you think I don’t know my own power anymore.  I do.  Moreso than I ever wanted to, I’d say.’

Ussot closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to chuckle at his response, “It is silly to deny me, Christian.  We both want the same things.”

‘Good.  Now go away.’

“It’s so easy to be distant and frightening from that lofty perch you’ve placed yourself on, isn’t it?  Lonely, though, I would imagine.  How long are you going to mourn the dead?  How long are you going to allow past mistakes, past misfortunes to cloud your judgment?”

‘The only thing clouding my judgment right now is that pungent stench you call allure.  Stop, Ussot.  You know it won’t work on me.  It never has.’

“Oh, you speak such big words!  But even now, your thoughts say something different.  There is a hunger there.”

“Why don’t you come down here and tell me to leave?  Perhaps I shall do so.  Perhaps, then, I will listen…”

She said this while pursing her lips and looking at him through hooded eyes.  She was soaked now, the white dress she wore clinging to her body like a glove, the bits of cloth doing nothing to preserve her modesty.  That would require that she had some to begin with.  Ussot was a pretty as a porcelain statue, with curves in all the right places, and a mane of red, red hair.  Unfortunately, perfection was never something Christian put much stock in.

Perfection was a lie.

He stood before her, his height easily making her seem much smaller than she truly was.  Few of those who called themselves children of Sanctus Unus were ‘small’.  By human standards, they were easily six feet, perhaps more, with lithe frames and beautiful faces.  Christian had been remade in that image, though he would hardly call his current face lovely.

Ussot played with the necklace conveniently dangling between her breasts, trying to draw his attention.  She was going about it all the wrong way, her aura too overbearing, her eyes too intent.  He could see through her like tissue paper and it was hardly appealing.

‘Now go away,’ Christian’s sudden thought startled her, but it didn’t show on her face.

Of course, Ussot did not listen.  Instead, she moved closer, her hand moving down the length of his arm and her soaked, cold body moving up against his own.  She moved with grace, he would give her that, every motion fluid and with the possibility of sensuality.  But something else in him stirred at the constant brush of her aura against his own.  His muscles tensed and Ussot took it as a sign.

“I do not know why you deny yourself.  We could help you, Christian.  You are so badly hurt, so terribly wounded…” Her words seemed distant, her voice like a whisper in his ear.  His guard dropped, her energy overcoming him like a white hot wave.  He tensed further, his posture becoming rigid as he teetered on the edge.  “You need only let go.  We can fix what’s been broken…”

She rested against his shoulder, allowing her wet hair to press against his own soaked shirt.  She smelled like a dozen flowers and other pretty, precious things.  None of which particularly appealed to Christian’s nose.  Her body was warm beneath the cold dampness of her clothes, but it was a shallow warmth, a warmth that lasted moments instead of forever.

‘I am done being used,’ he managed, though the thought was broken and didn’t hold the same power as previous intrusions.

Ussot felt that finally, she was wearing down his guard.  She let her hand rest on his chest a moment before peeling herself off.

“Used is such a dirty term…”

‘It is what it is.’

Christian turned away, tried to rebuild his walls, tried to block her out.  His fists clenched at his sides, darkness lined his vision.  He could feel it welling up inside him, growing by the minute, feeding on the scant bits of Ussot’s energy that remained within him.  Ussot could feel it, too, and pulled back suddenly.  It was too late.

As soon as she tried to flee, it leapt out like a predator hiding in the bush near its prey.  She let out a tiny scream.

Christian’s grip was like a vice and try as she might, she could not wrest herself free.  It wasn’t so much that he had her by the throat.  It was the darkness she felt pushing against her own barriers.  It pushed like a battering ram, tasting and feeding on the bits of shrapnel that came loose with every thrust.  Her vision blurred as she felt a tiny crack form, some of her energy seeping out only to be consumed whole.  Her body felt cold, a cold that isn’t associated with temperature or discomfort… a cold that burns your soul.

‘I told you to be afraid.’

She hadn’t believed it until she felt it consuming her, stealing away her very life’s essence from her body.  A tiny squeak left her lips as she struggled.  Her strength was fading fast, a panic rising up from within her.  She would die.  He would take her completely and she would die.

As if battling with himself, Christian gnashed his teeth, a small growl leaving his throat.  Ussot barely noticed, too swept up in her own agony.  She tried to fight it, to push it back, but it came faster and harder with every move she made.  It fed off her despair, her emotions, everything.  She couldn’t hide from it.  She was terrified.

Fallen.  Truly in every sense of the word.  Turned.  What had happened here?  It felt so very wrong, so very twisted her soul cried out with such a sound that it made the wind pick up, blowing rain and leaves all over.

Suddenly, Christian released her.  She was thrust violently against the column, landing harshly against the wet ground.  He shook for a moment, trying to regain his composure, muscles tensing throughout his body.  Adrenaline surged in them both, fueling their auras, making them both an equally unbearable weight on their minds.  Ussot all but collapsed, her head spinning, her soul crying out in terror.  Pieces were missing, fragments of her very being consumed whole and lost forever.

Christian walked away from her, boots silent against the ground.  ‘Tell Laszael not to send anyone else. I don’t wish to find out what happens when I absorb one of your kind completely.’

Ussot said nothing, his thought, the very touch of his energy like some vile, slimy essence she would never be clean of.  What had they done?  What had Sanctus Unus created?

I know I’m on break, but I got bored.  What happened here is mentioned in AoL in the next Phase, so now you will go “ahh so that’s what they meant!”  :)   A little heads up and a glimpse at what Christian was on the road to becoming… or has become, perhaps.  It’s hard to say.  We haven’t seen current Christian yet.

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5 Responses to “017. Memoria – Conspire”

  1. Gayl says:

    Christian, at least in this piece, has seriously become dark. He is a soul collector or is he absorbing life…either way he is clearly someone to be feared. And Eckhard wants to get in the same proximity with that? He is utterly mad!!!

    I was drawn to Ussot’s thoughts regarding Sanctus Unus’ intentions with Christian…everyone seems to think he is broken and in need of healing. Now I see why Christian pushed Evangeline away. It is almost as if there is a beast, something, that is part of him that he struggles to maintain. Hence the walls he puts up. I can totally envision Eckhard getting absorbed by his son hehe. Seriously, the man is crazy to want any part of that.

    Mao, I am so hooked on this…you cannot let these characters go…I think I will protest loudly if you even consider it!

    Aww, Gayl, thank you! It really means a lot to me that you are connected to the characters. It means I must be doing something right! As for Christian, he’s become something, or becoming something. Whether Sanctus Unus planned it, we can’t know. Death holds the answers, perhaps, because Christian went down this path the same time Beryl Cross was set to leave the world. Eckhard has the possibility of becoming like Christian, but the true question is, who is more powerful? ;)

  2. Veron says:

    … … … … … … … … *lifts jaw out of lap*

    What.the balls.has Christian.become.

    Yes, Ussot, WHAT has Sanctus Unus created? I mean he’s absorbing essence from preternatural beings, here! Hot damn.

    Eckhard is running with scissors, playing with fire, and all together about to get himself fucked up. Pardon my french, but in some ways I’d be a little glad to see it… but then again, I am now incredibly worried for Evangeline.

    That is a question to be answered at a much later date, I’m afraid. ;) He can do much more than that, I assure you. Eckhard is trying to do the same thing. This could turn very bad, very quickly. And now the reason why Death is involved becomes ever more apparent. ;)

  3. goodbye_sun says:

    I loved the description of her voice, it really sets off how Christian views things around him now and how much disdain he has for anything or anyone who might encroach on his attempts to maintain control, even if it is some one he cares about.

    Christian doesn’t care about Ussot, he has nothing but scorn for her. She’s been trying to get in his pants since he gave his life for Beryl’s. ;) But you’re right, he holds himself at a distance from everyone, even Evangeline and Valerie.

  4. ~Drew says:

    Again, stunning shots. Some people do not like to write or read ‘conversation pieces’ personally, I love them when done right, and it certainly was here.
    Again, being not familiar with the characters, I love the insight you reveal, I loved this line, ‘perfection was never something Christian put much stock in.’
    Christian seems someone not to be messed with, enjoyed this little bit of fiction!

    Hey Drew, thanks! You know, if you’re interested in learning more about the characters, I would recommend checking out the stories associated with them. It all began with Knock it Down, which isn’t very good, but we all start somewhere; then there was Wings of Steel and my current story, Angel of Lies. These really mean a lot more if you actually know the characters, but I am glad you enjoyed them anyway. I enjoy well-done conversation pieces. They are also my favorite to write.

  5. E. Black says:

    Christian went through a change that seems along the same vein as Beryl’s. But while Beryl Cross died and became Death, Christian is very much alive and becoming something far more sinister.

    Or I could just be reading that all kinds of wrong. Whatever is happening to Christian it isn’t good for anyone.

    You are all kinds of crazy right! But that’s all I’ll say…

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